


Take the Heat

by TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal (lazysatyr)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, POV First Person, Smut, mild dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-30 15:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10879503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysatyr/pseuds/TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal
Summary: [Untitled] Posted by Justacook@eyefind.info at 3:46 PM July 16, 2013





	Take the Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neomineom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=neomineom).



> Chef's got something to get off his chest and turns to the vast sea of internet blogging to vent his secrets.

I don't know why I'm writing this. I guess I have to.

Yeah... I think have to, otherwise I'll lose my damn mind if I never get it out. And fuck if I ever TELL someone I know about this.

I've been working for this guy for a little while. Crazy doesn't even begin to describe him, but he pays for hard work, and hard work's what I do.

We run a meth operation in San Andreas. He's the owner of the property, he supplies the raw materials and I do the cooking. From time to time, we have to deal with trouble that shows itself, but his reputation keeps most of the riffraff away.

He's notorious in this town. Known for his short temper and especially his violent tendencies. I've heard people say he used to prey on hitchhikers and the like, might be responsible for some of the unsolved murders from up north a few years back, but nowadays he seems content in feeding off the desperate thirst of meth heads and other undesirables and controlling the drug and guns trade in the county.

Anyway, he's something of monster really... but he pays good, and I feel like he respects me, more so even than his closest friend, who he is admittedly awful to. It's none of my business, really... His lackeys don't seem to care at the end of the day. We all smoke the ice.

Usually, he--I'll call him T--takes advantage of everyone around him, though he usually spares me most of the time. I think he sees me as a workhorse, values my presence and product. I see him barking orders at his lackeys, whereas when he speaks to me, he's like a professional. I used to notice his stare from time to time... but I figured he did that creepy shit to everybody. But sometimes, in the thick of a 3 day smoking party, things get blurry though.

We like to party.

Recently, we had a big boost in production. We'd made three times as much glass in 2 weeks than ever before, and it was fucking ace. We were celebrating, naturally.

This is when stuff got fucked up... the whole reason I am writing this to begin with, really.

So, it's summer, it's hot, and we were all partying at the lab. We'd smoked so many bowls, I was on the verge of hallucinating, but feeling pretty amazing. Our newest stuff was the best yet, and we were the lab rats.

T was hanging around... and people who know him know he has ah... odor even in normal weather, but it was hot and his presence was everywhere that day.

I was tending to our next batch--I'm used to working while absolutely blitzed-- and T was ranting about this biker that had been causing us trouble lately. A lot of the bikers in town cook their own or buy from us and sell it to Vinewood types in Los Santos at extremely inflated prices. T hates the thought of them making money off of us. I'm more annoyed by how they talk behind his back... but nonetheless, there was talk of violence.

Sometimes we get riled up when we're high, and sometimes it manifests, and T will have a body we need to dispose of. Our map of the desert is getting kinda complex...

Those bikers though, they hardly seem to notice their prospects go missing. Maybe it's cause so many of them turn tail and flee that shitty life on their own and never turn back, but the club never comes snooping around after we bury one of theirs in the desert.

Anyway... usually when T's got an itch, he picks up a working girl, lures in a meth head or even hounds one of his lackeys for sexual favors. Sometimes he fucks them in the same room as I'm working or hanging out in, but he usually leaves me alone.

I never cared much, but it always struck me as unusual... until I realized he did it all the time. T gives no fucks... sometimes to the detriment of others.

I keep going off on tangents... but I guess it's hard to get myself to describe what's in my head. I'm still kinda in shock.

Anyway, the music was on real loud and a bowl was being passed. We were laughing about something, but eventually there was a lull in the conversation.  At one point T relaxed in his chair, legs spreading casually as he passed me the pipe. He was wearing these thin sort of running shorts and a tank top, and... fuck this is embarassing to write, but I saw his thumb trailing along his inner thigh, and after a moment I noticed the outline of his erection.

It wouldn't be the first time to be honest... this ice makes you real horny, but the way he looked at me as he touched himself... I'd never felt like that before. I felt ogled and... perved on. It was really weird. I felt all my fine hairs standing on edge.

I got up to get a breath of fresh air by the window and lit a smoke, trying to be casual. It was dark out, and you could see the stars. The moon was like a big, silver grin in the sky, and I heard T's chair creak as he got up.

I breathed out smoke and felt his rough hand on the back of my neck, sending a shiver up my spine. His palm was soft, but his fingers were so calloused and hard. I've felt them before, when he hands you something or takes something from you--sometimes when he's feeling particularly playful, he'll massage your shoulders, and fuck are his hands strong.

His thumb ran across the side of my neck and he pressed something stiff against the back my thigh. I could feel it, even through my jeans. I froze as I realized what was going on... Of all his options, suddenly he wanted me?

I felt his breath, hot and kinda rank, against my ear, and I regret the way it made me shutter.

He parted his legs to strengthen his stance, his swagger... oddly alluring. His hand moved down my side to my hip, and his rough fingers grabbed down the front of my jeans.

I wanted to buck him off there, but this was T, and I could feel him, oh so rigid against my leg... I felt almost powerless to stop him, but rather than even trying, I fucking froze.. I took a draw off my cigarette to get my bearings. He snickered... I could hear the way it curved his sickening lips into a grin.

"You're hot." He growled into my ear. He said it with such conviction, though honestly I had assumed I was just the closest thing in his vicinity.

I froze, breathing out smoke. I could hear him drawing in my scent... His cock twitched against my leg in response. I guess he really was feelin' me.

I'm not even sure what I was thinking in that moment, to be honest. Everything in my head was telling me it was all wrong... But physically I choked.

It's not like I was scared... Plenty of people live in fear of T, but he's been good to me overall... I was in a state of shock.

"Wanna fuck, cupcake?" The fucker breathed hot against the back of my neck. His voice was rugged with sexual desire, and if I wasn't sweating before, I sure was now. I couldn't explain it; maybe it was the tension in the room, or the sudden and extreme breech of boundaries taking me off guard, but I was rendered speechless.

His hand found my cock and he squeezed me through my jeans. I was horrified when I felt my dick respond. It twitched, and so did his against me.

"Are you scared?" He mused, and it broke me from my shock.

"Fuck no." I said, scoffing at him. "What kinda puss do you take me for?"

He laughed, low and corrosive. He shifted so he was standing behind me, still pressing way too close.

His scarred, impatient hands came to my belt and began undoing my pants. Clearly, he is well practiced in such things. He groped down the front of my jeans again, and god damn it, he found me hard. This was concerning, but he seemed pleased, and sent his calloused hand down the front of my opened jeans. He grabbed me, skin on skin... and the way he tugged had me shuttering again.

I didn't know what to do... on the one hand, T is a loathsome, disgusting sort of guy. He's out of control and couldn't care less. But on the other, he has this odd sort of charm that makes you want to follow him down the rabbit's hole. Something about him made you want to satisfy him...

Little did I know, the man's insatiable.

Within seconds he had my cock out and was stroking it with a confident pace. His chin dug into my shoulder... periodically his lips brushed my neck, and I could feel how chapped they were.

His stroking bordered on being too rough, but he was clearly practiced. He had this sort of... uncaring air to his motion, concerned only with the task at hand, regardless of my input.

I honestly shook and whimpered like a bitch. My knees trembled, my eyes squeezed shut in fear of seeing his scarred, tattooed hand around my length. Nobody ever touched me like that before.

His free hand slid up my stomach as the other continued its merciless pace. I was already near orgasm, over stimulated, undersexed, but I could feel his length prodding into my backside. I knew a transaction was about to take place, and I broke from my silence.

"T-T--wait..." I said, my voice breaking nervously as I pushed back against his sturdy chest. I could see the stains on his shirt out of my peripherals, sweat and come and blood staining it.

He made a grunt of confusion and annoyance. He slowed, though his new, languid motion had my cock drooling. It was unbearable.

"I don't know what's goin' on here, man... I need... a sec..." I said, prying free to turn and face him. Maybe he forgot who I was.

"What, is that not good enough for you?" T asked, his eyebrows pinched as though he may be insulted.

"Look, why d-don't we just chill for a second? I..." I said, or something along those lines, but he ignored me and growled.

He shoved me back into the windowsill with the palm of his hand against my chest, his eyes bearing into my soul as he loomed over me. I felt my heart pounding in my ears.

"Relax." T breathed, staring me in the eye like a madman. God, his eyes are terrifying; filled with hatred, possession and desire all at once. As I was locked in that gaze, he pulled his own cock from his shorts and rubbed his against mine. I flinched at first. It was such a quick action... --and who knows what I could catch from him--but his cock is probably the only smooth part of his whole body, and I was so hypersensitive, it felt... really good actually. I wish I could say it was awful.

He stroked us together, squeezing and rubbing on tender spots and I was melting in his grasp. I let out a labored sigh and I felt him twitching against me. His fingers are so calloused and we were so dry, but the irritation doubled as pleasure.

He could tell I was enjoying it more than I let on. He grumbled something and kissed the side of my neck. His mouth was hot, lined with jagged teeth that dragged as he began to suck bruises on my throat.

Seeing them in the mirror afterwards... Surprisingly, that was the source of most of my shame...

I'd never been touched like this by anyone in my life, certainly not my boss. But it was like he knew my weakest spots and exploited them to the fullest extent. I loathe the way he had me groaning. Sometimes I think about how insanely manipulative he is, and yet it feels so normal?-- so... controlled.

At some point he got on his knees and began sucking me off. I didn't dare watch, but I could envision his thick lips--I could feel them working me. He's definitely done this before... It didn't take him long to bring me to the brink.

I panted out his name when I came... Embarassing... So embarassing.

It was more out of pure shock than anything else... He didn't let up, and he sure as fuck swallowed. I was going soft by the time he got up, in a sort of idiotic daze... but he was still on fire.

"Let me get it." He growled into my ear, reaching back to grab my ass with his powerful grip. I'd never even considered it before... but before I knew it he was pushing me back towards the window, dragging at my jeans like I didn't have a choice in the matter.

Admittedly, I didn't resist him... I was honestly skeptical he could get anything up in there anyway...

Surprisingly, he put on a condom and I let him poke at me.. It was desperate, ragged grinding at first, but then he started pushing in... it was a shocking feeling... it wasn't quite... painful but the discomfort is pretty unpleasant. I'd never even considered letting anyone do this to me before, but something about how he just took and took, I found it difficult to resist him.

He let out a feral growl as he penetrated me. My knees were weak, and I tried to distract myself, watching a coyote cross the road under a street lamp out the window. It didn't really help... I could feel him breeching limits I didn't know I had, and my breath started clouding the window as he rutted into me.

"Oh yeah..." He shuttered like a pervert. I could feel his hands on my hips, grabbing, tugging me back into him with his powerful grasp. I trembled reflexively and he snickers darkly.

One of his hands slid up my chest and grabbed me by my throat. His lips trailed along my neck, and he bit down on my trapezius. I winced and must have made a sound because his body responded to mine, throbbing and pulling and pushing impatiently. His breath was hot, his skin was coarse and grimy, his lips were oh so dry against my perspiring skin. His rhythm was beginning to build, and his thrusting into me started to become painful as the lube from the condom wore thin. He let out a shivered breath, shoving me roughly into the window again as he ground into me, whining desperately as he came.

His hands could have bruised my hips, his nails left welts behind... Fortunately, the condom had not broken... He pulled out and eased up on me, his breathing hitched. He patted me on the shoulder and bent to pull his shorts up his thighs.

I felt disgusting... I felt used... I could still feel his hands on me, even after it was all over. I felt so... filthy.

We didn't really say anything about it after the fact.  I went back to work out of a lack of anything better to do and we listened to the radio as my ass throbbed painfully. I tried not to think about what had just happened, but I felt sated in a way I'd never known previously.

"If he shows his fucking face here again, we're gonna make my old family recipe." T said eventually, I was so high and out of it, I nearly forgot what he meant.

When he talks about his old family recipe, he means stew... and when T wants to make stew it means we got a carcass to get rid of, you know what I mean?

He told me to watch the place and he left some time after that. I didn't know what to do, I'm going out of my mind thinking about it. I'm just glad I've had some time to myself to decompress.

He's supposed to show up at my place tonight though, and I don't know how I feel. If he hadn't made me do it, I never would have, though if he tries it again... Fuck, I just don't know how I feel about all of this...

 

 


End file.
